


Reunion

by KarenHardy



Series: Carry On Wayward Winchesters [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: I'm Bad At Summaries, I'm Bad At Tagging, Reunions, Winchester Sister
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-06-07 10:43:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15217442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KarenHardy/pseuds/KarenHardy
Summary: The Winchester children meet again for the first time. Don't like, don't read, don't hate, bitches.





	Reunion

Recce was thrown to the ground in a pitch dark room, her left ankle being twisted in the process. Her hands flew to wrap around it, holding it in obvious agony.  
“I'm gonna torch every last one of you sons of bitches and send your asses straight back to Hell!” She screamed.  
The demon sneered at her.  
“Have fun trying, Winchester.”  
The door she'd come through slammed shut loudly. For a few minutes, Recce banged against it passionately, but she eventually gave up and began to treat her ankle. She moving it, she hissed in pain.  
“That's gonna hurt like a mother fucker for a good long while.” She muttered bitterly.  
A voice came from the darkness, calm and collected, but in a sense, irritated.  
“If it hurts that bad, I suggest not moving it again.”  
“Who are you?!” She called into the darkness, “Who's there?!”  
“My name's Sa- Alex.” The voice said, changing midway through its answer. “What's yours? That thing called you Winchester, but that can't be right, can it?”  
“No, it's right, it's just…”  
She sighed.  
“It's complicated.”  
A sardonic laugh echoed in the inky blackness.  
“My whole life is full of complicated. And weird. Shock me.”  
Recce contemplated the idea then decided she had nothing to lose.  
“My name's Recce.” She said. “Recce Winchester. Dean and Sam Winchester are my older brothers. Only, they think I'm dead. They think I died when I was thirteen. In all actuality, a demon came after me and my dad threatened me out of the family. But I heard about his death, so I felt like now I could go back. Having trouble finding them though. Not like that's gonna stop me.”  
“Every time I think they can't shock me…” The voice muttered. “Are you serious, kid?”  
“Yes, I'm serious, but I'm not a kid. I'm nineteen, thank you very much and I find that patronizing.”  
“Sorry.” The voice scoffed.  
Recce sighed again, less coarse than the last. Softer and more with a sense of regret, rather than exasperation.  
“No. Don't be sorry.” She apologized, “I shouldn't snap at you.”  
“It's okay.”  
In a tone too light for her to pull of with how tired she was, Recce asked, “So what are you in for?”  
“This thing is after my whole family. So far it's got me. My parents are dead, so it's just me and my brother.”  
“What's your brother’s name?”  
“De- Devon.”  
“Ah-hah!” Recce crowed, “You were going to say Dean, weren't you? And you're Sam. Don't think I didn't catch your little slip up earlier.”  
The voice sighed.  
“Yeah, I'm Sam.”  
“Why didn't you tell me?” Recce accused, “Why would you lie?”  
“Until I heard your story, I didn't know if I could trust you, and also, how was I supposed to know you were my little sister who’s supposed to be dead.”  
Recce huffed.  
“I can't believe I would’ve lost you again.” She grumbled. “Do you have any idea how ridiculously hard to find you are?”  
Sam laughed dryly.  
“Do you have any idea how ridiculously hard it is to stay out of prison?”  
“What would you go to prison for?”  
“We ran into a shape shifter in St. Louis a while back,” Sam explained, “And it's been causing problems ever since. Plus, y’know the usual stuff to get by and do our job; tax evasion, credit card fraud, grave desecration, impersonation of federal agents, that sort of thing.”  
“Oh.”  
The door swung open, and the two flinched from the sudden and drastic change in lighting. The demon came in and grabbed Recce, flinging her over his shoulder despite her kicking and screaming.

* * *

Recce was thrown into and tied to a chair. The demon pulled out a large and decorative set of knives while Recce struggled against her bonds.  
“The more you move, the more this is going to hurt, sweetheart.”  
“What do you want?”  
“Suffering. To every last one of John Winchester’s infernal spawn.”  
“You're one to talk about infernal spawn, you damn hell rat.”  
The demon smacked her across the face, hard.  
“Insolent child.”  
“I'm not a child. I'm nineteen. Though I won't deny I'm insolent.”  
The demon smacked her again. He took out a knife and pressed it into her skin on her upper left arm. She bit her tongue to hold back her screams. The demon’s hand gripped her face, his nails digging into her cheeks.  
“Feel free to scream.”  
He put the knife away, but swiftly grabbed a second, turned, and cut her lower right arm. She screamed.  
“Sam!” She cried through the pain.  
“He can't get to you. It does no good to call out for him, but by all means, please scream to your heart's content, I'm sure it'll drive him mad knowing there's nothing he can do.”  
He cut her again, this time on her left calf. She flinch in pain, but didn't scream.  
“You're a son of a bitch, you know that?”  
“That’s no way to talk about my mamma, you little brat.”  
He smirks at her and makes a long slow cut down the left side of her face. She screams in pain again.  
“Oh, does that hurt?” The demon taunted, his voice laced with faux sympathy.  
Recce glared at him. He swiftly brought down the knife and cut her lower right arm again. She bit her tongue, resisting the urge to scream.  
“Something wrong?” His voice dripped with a sickening fake innocence that made Recce’s stomach churn.  
“Go. To. Hell.” Recce growled, gritting her teeth.  
“Been there. Done that.”  
“Fuck you.”  
“You wanna? I don't think your brothers would approve.”  
“Go crawl back into the hole you came out of and die in it.”  
“You wish.”  
From his pocket, he produced a syringe and pressed it into her arm to administer a sleeping drug. Then he untied her and carried her back to the room. When the door opened, Sam stood, and the demon threw Recce onto him, knocking him down. The door slammed shut and the room went dark once more. Sam sat up and positioned Recce on his lap. She leaned against him and he ran his fingers through her hair, its texture sticky with her blood.  
“You okay, kid?” Sam asked.  
Recce coughed and pulled her head away from his chest.  
“You can feel the blood running down my body. Does that constitute okay to you?”  
“You're not dead.”  
“Touche.”  
She laid against him again, listening to his heartbeat. Out of habit he began to hum “Carry On Wayward Son”. Recce fell asleep against him, and Sam combed through her hair with his fingers, later falling asleep against the wall.

* * *

The door burst open and shocked Sam and Recce awake.  
“Dean?!” Sam cried.  
“C’mon Sammy, we've gotta get out of here. We've got five-o coming any minute plus the backup for the devil's playmate out there. And who's that?”  
“It's Recce, Dean.”  
“Recce? Recce died six years ago, Sam.”  
“She's back.”  
“Sammy, need I remind you I never died to start out with- Can we talk about this later? We need to leave before that thing comes back.”  
“Hey! I'm the only one who calls him Sammy! And no, we can't talk about this later, we're gonna talk about it now!”  
“Dean, she's right, we need to get out of here. We can explain later.”  
Dean groaned frustratedly.  
“Fine. C'mon.”  
Sam slid Recce of him and stood up, turned, and picked up Recce.  
“The kid can walk, Sam, c'mon.”  
“She can't, actually. The demon that was keeping us captive twisted her ankle.”  
“Fine. Carry her then. But we have to leave, now.”  
They left the room and started down the hall. Dean stepped on a tripwire on the way out. Recce saw it only seconds before he triggered it, not soon enough to warn him.  
“Dean, no!” She cried.  
Something shot out of the wall at him, an inch closer and it would've killed him. They stepped over the tripwire and kept going.  
“Are you okay?” Recce asked.  
“Shut up.” Dean growled.  
Sam, confused and offended on Recce’s behalf, scolded, “Dean!”  
“What?!” Dean snapped.  
“Calm down.”  
“I'm fine.”  
They made it outside to the Impala and Dean got in, slamming the door with complete disregard to his siblings. Sam put Recce in the backseat as best he could before getting into the front.  
“What was your problem back in there?” Sam asked.  
“My problem?” Dean chortled, “My problem is your innate, blind, trust in this kid and the fact that she nearly got me killed!”  
“I'm sorry! I didn't know!” Recce argued.  
“Like hell you didn't!”  
“Dean, calm down, she's our sister!” Sam defended.  
“You're siding with her?!”  
“I'm not siding with anyone, but yelling isn't helping any of us!”  
Dean pulled the Impala into a motel parking lot and parked the car.  
“This conversation is over.”  
He got out and went inside to check in.

* * *

Dean set an array of items on the table in the motel room.  
“Listen kid, I'm gonna be hard pressed to believe you're my sister. So I've got some things to test. Touch each of these and I'll let you stay.”  
Recce ran her finger along the side of a silver, a brass, and an iron knife one by one, then placed a hand in holy water.  
“See Dean?” said Sam. “It's Recce.”  
“You can stay,” was Dean’s only retort.  
Dean left to go for a drive in the Impala. Recce looks at Sam sadly. Sam sighed.  
“He just needs time. Why don't you go clean up while he's gone?”  
Recce nodded and went to take a shower.

* * *

When she was done in the shower Sam noticed Recce had nothing to wear but a pair of jeans and a grey tank top. He silently handed her one of his flannels, but it was too big. They stood in front of the mirror, the flannel like a tunic on Recce.  
Recce giggled, her tone laced with levity.  
“I appreciate the sentiment, Sammy, but it's a little big.”  
“Here.”  
Sam took her arm and rolled up the left sleeve.  
“There you go.” He pronounced.  
She rolled up the right one herself and smiles at him.  
“Thanks Sammy.” She said, turning around and hugging him. He hugged her back.  
“Anytime. Go get some shut-eye.”  
She grabbed her Walkman and headphones from her bag on the table, (they'd picked it up on the way back to the motel), and curled up on one of the beds. Dean came in and set a case of beers in the mini fridge. He took one and sat at the dining table with Sam, who had grabbed his computer and was quietly doing some research.

* * *

Recce was fast asleep on Sam's bed with headphones on. Sam tucked a blanket over/around her, picked up her Walkman, and removed the headphones. He was startled by how loud her music was, and surprised that she could fall asleep listening to AC/DC’s “Back in Black” and “Highway to Hell” on full blast. He shook his head and chuckled, amused.  
“I don't know how you do it.” He muttered.  
Still mostly asleep, Recce replied, “Practice. And a love of AC/DC.”  
She shifted and the blanket fell off. Sam fixed it.  
Recce groggily thanked him. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and ruffled her hair.  
“Anytime.”  
Sam walked into the kitchen and Dean confronted him.  
“What was that?” Dean snapped.  
“What?” Sam questioned.  
“Tucking her in? ‘Anytime’? A kiss on the forehead?! What the hell?!”  
“What, Dean? It's Recce. I'm just being a good brother. You did the same sort of stuff for me- hell, you did it for her too until she fake died, so what's your problem?!”  
“We don't know that's Recce! It could be a shifter or a demon or some shit like that! Hell, it could be a ghoul like Adam! I don't trust her! She's probably some kind of monster!”  
“Dean, she passed all the tes-”  
“It doesn't matter that she passed the damn tests! That can't be Recce!”  
Their argument was interrupted by both brothers hearing the door slam. Recce was no longer on the couch.  
“She heard you. Great. Just great! God dammit, Dean!” Sam snapped, grabbing his jacket from a chair by the door.  
“Where the hell are you going?!” Dean called, watching Sam storm out.  
“After her.” Sam replied curtly.  
The door slammed behind the younger Winchester make as he left. Dean banged his fists on the counter and left out the back door to get some air.

* * *

Sam found Recce standing on the edge of an abandoned bridge. Behind her he saw a female spirit, whispering in her ear. Recce’s eyes were glazed over, a sickly milky white.  
“They'll never trust you…” The spirit crooned. “Sam was just playing devil's advocate to playfully annoy Dean… he loves Dean… he agrees with him… he doesn't love you... you’re a monster… you nearly got Dean killed… you don't deserve them… you don't deserve to live…”  
“I don't deserve them…” Recce parrotted, entranced. “I don't deserve to live…”  
“Recce! Get away from the edge!” Sam screamed.  
“Just jump… then they’ll be free… this is for the best… just let go… you'll be with your mother… you'll be with your father… just let go…”  
“Just let go… be with mom and dad…” Recce repeated.  
“Recce no!” Sam shouted. “If you jump you'll end up just like her, trapped here for eternity! Wake up! I'm coming for you!”  
“Just jump… think of your family…”  
“My family…”  
The spirit flew away from Recce and up to Sam, getting up in his face.  
“I will have her! Do not interfere!” She screeched, her voice akin to a banshee.  
Sam pulled an iron knife from his pocket and sliced through her.  
“I don't think so.” He growled.  
The spirit dissipated, but the spell on Recce remained. Sam ran towards her.  
“They're better off…” Recce whispered.  
As she was about to step off the edge, Sam grabbed her by her shirt, the flannel he had given her, and pulled her over the barrier, back to him. She fought against him without much energy, wrapped in his arms.  
“They're better off… they'll be free… they'll be safe…” She muttered, struggling.  
“Recce Joanna Winchester, snap out of it!” Sam scolded. “We are not better off without you! Recce, we love you!”  
At his words, the milkiness started to fade ever so slightly.  
“What is love?” She asked, the trance fading slightly.  
“It's when someone cares about you enough to do anything for you.” Sam told her. “Anything at all. Including facing down demons and evil spirits.”  
“Anything?” A tired Recce inquired.  
“Yes.” Sam assured. “Anything. I love you Recce, and so does Dean. He's just-” He sighed. “Scared.”  
Now fully awake, Recce whispered, “I love you too, Sammy.”  
She cuddled into him and he squeezed his arms around her. They both started crying softly, reveling in the embrace.  
“Please never do that again.” Sam coughed, choking up at the thought of losing her again after only having her back for a short period.  
Recce laughed, a strangled sound, half laugh, half sob.  
“I'll try.” She promised.  
He stood and then helped her up. They walked back to the motel arm in arm.

* * *

Sam and Recce got back to the motel long after Dean, the eldest Winchester sitting on the bed watching TV and drinking a beer. Recce sat down beside him and grabbed the remote, changing the channel. Dean groaned and grabbed it back, switching it back to what he was watching.  
“House rules, kid. First come, first serve.” Dean said coldly.  
Recce took the remote back, changing the channel again.  
“This isn't a house.” She retorted. “What's your problem anyway? Why don't you trust me?”  
Dean took the remote and turned the tv off, standing angrily.  
“Excuse me if I don't trust a kid who wears a bracelet made of goddamned shotgun shells!”  
“They're .45 cartridges!” She shot back.  
“Why does that matter?!” Dean threw his hands up into the air.  
Recce stood, briefly wincing at the pain in her ankle.  
“Because dad wouldn't let you shoot a shotgun when until you were twelve and you made this for me when you were eight!”  
“Both of you! Knock it off!” Sam intervened.  
“What?!” His siblings growled, heads whipping to face him.  
“I'm sick of your fighting! So help me God, you either talk this out right now or I’m going to strip you both of every weapon you own and tie you down until you're ready to behave maturely!”  
Recce turned back to Dean.  
“You tested me with silver, iron, brass, holy water and everything else you could think of, Dean! So then why don't you trust me?!”  
“Fine, you want another test? I'll give you a goddamn quiz you like a fucking child and see if you can answer.”  
“Quiz me?” She scoffed.  
“Yeah, quiz you. How old were you when we lived in Texas?” He snapped.  
“Where in Texas?” She fired back, just as hostile. “We lived there three different times.”  
“Who was Sam's closest friend in his senior year?”  
“I wasn't there for that.” Recce admitted.  
“What was our first dog's name?”  
“Dean, we never had a dog.” Recce sighed, exasperated. “Dad wouldn't let us 'cause we moved around too much. Please, Dean. It's really me, I just need you to have a little faith.”  
“I don't really do 'faith’, kid.”  
Recce sighed again and hung her head, defeated.  
“But,” Dean began. “I guess I can make an exception.”  
He leaned over and gave her an awkward hug. She pulled him tight and cracked his back a little, causing him to chuckle breathily.  
“It's good to have you back, kid.” He whispered into her hair, his chin resting atop her head.  
“It's good to be back.” She replied.  
Sam smiled.


End file.
